


Taking hits

by isa_belle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Flash is a bully, Irondad, Minor Bruce Banner/Thor, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter is a Little Shit, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, We're also just gonna pretend Endgame didn't happen, i don't know her, infinity war who?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-05-12 02:33:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isa_belle/pseuds/isa_belle
Summary: In which Peter acts like he's way tougher than he is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multiple chapter fic so don't judge me if it's bad but I really hope you don't think it's bad!! If you like it, you can check out my other fics! Thanks for reading :)

I cover my eye with my hand and rush past Mr. Stark with a quick (and voice crack littered), “hey Mr. Stark, I’m going to the lab like right now so _gottagobye_.”  
     As soon as I pass him he grabs me by the collar, spinning me around and gripping my forearm to keep me from tumbling onto the floor. His eyebrows are raised in a sort of knowing way, “uh-uh,” He says skeptically, then cuts to the chase with his usual Stark mannerisms, “what's the deal, kid?” He points to the eye that I still have a palm pressed over. He reaches out to move it but I jerk back.  
     I shrug it off, trying to feign innocence and pumping as much of into my tone as I can, “Wh-I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Stark.”  
     It doesn’t even work a little bit. But Tony goes along with the act for a moment, eyebrows still raised. “Uh huh.”  
     He stares a second longer and I think weakly for an instant that maybe I’m off the hook.  
     “Uh yeah, I’m-I’m gonna go. To the lab. Now.”  
     I go to walk away but Mr. Stark says, “yeah, no,” he drops the act and grabs my arm, pulling my hand from my face. I really try act bothered but with my track record of hiding injuries from him I suppose this is fair. His gaze lands on the dark skin around my eye, purple and bruised. I wince a little and watch Tony’s expression fall from annoyance to slight shock to bright anger. He narrows his eyes.  
     “Who?” He demands. It doesn’t feel like a question. If it was I wouldn’t answer anyway. So I deflect.  
     “It’s no one Mr. Stark. Plus I have super-healing! This-“ I gesture to my eye, “-will be gone by tomorrow. I mean it didn’t even hurt that bad. Especially knowing that I could beat him up if I really wanted to-not that I really wanted to but-"  
     “Him?” He interjects. I internally slap myself, _Great job Parker_. Tony, hands still on my forearms, guides me to the table to sit down and bats my hand away from my eye.  
     “Yeah-yeah, him, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m used to it. It’s nothing I can’t take,” I grin a little, “I’m Spiderman.”  
     “You’re ‘used to it,’” he says carefully. I not earnestly.  
     “So it’s happened before?”  
     I bite my lip, _that was a trick question._ I go to recover, to backtrack, to keep him from killing some dumb high school bully who has every right to pick on me (not because I deserve it, but because why shouldn't he? I'm just Peter Parker, the dorky guy who still plays with Legos. He doesn't know I'm Spiderman. He also doesn't know I could kick his ass without even breaking a sweat) because judging by the look in his eyes, he's about one knife away from committing murder and getting arrested.  
     “It’s not usually this bad,” I try, “but I figure I might as well take the hit rather than let him hit someone who can’t.”  
     Tony sighs, and there’s a strange look on his face. I almost ask about it by he stands up, raking a hand through his hair and muttering something about ‘stupid selfless kids’ so I figure it’s about me.  
     “Don’t touch it,” he instructs and walks to the freezer, digging around random Avenger snacks and ice cream-Vanilla for himself (“I like to keep it simple, Parker” he had said. I said I didn’t think anything in his life was ever gonna be simple.) and cookie dough for me (“because it’s the best flavor, Mr. Stark, duh.”) The ice cream is used mostly on nights when eyelids got too heavy, science is too hard to compute, and building and rebuilding and rebuilding feels too taxing. So Mr. Stark puts on a movie and we settle into the couch with ice cream and heavy limbs and warm blankets because “some of us can’t thermoregulate and should really always have a jacket.”  
     He eventually finds what he’s looking for, pulling out and ice pack and walking back over to me.  
     “FRIDAY, check his vitals.” He says to the AI, who apparently always has tabs on my vitals.  
     “He is stable, boss.” Her robotic and Irish accent rings out loudly through the kitchen. Not too loudly, though. (Upon learning about my hypersensitive hearing, Tony had dialed down the volume of FRIDAY’s voice slightly.)  
     Mr. Stark hands over the ice pack, kneeling in front of me so he’s at eye level and moving my hand so that the cold is on my eye doing it’s job. I stubbornly refuse to meet his gaze. Whether it’s from shame or embarrassment or whatever, I can’t tell, but I know I don’t wanna look in his eyes.  
     “You don’t have to talk about it Pete.” I nod, eyes still tracing anything that isn’t Tony’s own. “But you can.”  
     I exhale heavily. “I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” I say softly, “really.”  
     Tony looks at me strangely again, eyes doing a sort of sparkly sad thing. It looks like pity and something else. Something I’ve seen in my aunt’s eyes. I try to ignore it. “But you don’t have to be.”  
     “I know.”  
     There’s silence for awhile. It’s comfortable enough, a warmth like-feeling fills the air and I feel like maybe I don’t need to thermoregulate when Tony looks at me like I’m the whole world. I don’t really remember my Dad much but this is how he must’ve looked. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m reading it wrong. But I don’t know. And not knowing feels pretty good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is literally ready to murder Flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos on my last chapter, that was really nice!

Days later I‘m in the lab, tinkering with God knows what. I don’t remember.(Tony does. He says I’m tweaking the palm repulser on mark 54.)

“It’s too heavy,” I mumble, “not convenient enough.”

In my defense, my day was pretty shitty, I failed my Spanish test this morning, which wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I had spent last night studying rather than patrolling into the ungodly hours of the morning. (“It’s not my fault there were bad guys, May.” I said when I got home and she yelled at me for being reckless. She lectured until her voice was hoarse and it was time for school. I left the apartment feeling deflated.) I dozed off in Chemistry too, prompting my teacher to call me out in front of the class (a mortifying experience, per usual) “just because you get A’s, Mr. Parker, does not mean you get to sleep in my class.”

I simply muttered a groggy “yes, sir, sorry, sir” as the kids around me giggled, and tried not to self destruct. Flash seemed particularly unrelenting in his taunts and claims as well, lots of, “we all know your internship is fake, Penis,” and “you should quit the scholastic decathlon team,” and, “you’re not as smart as you think you are.” And I know I can handle it but eventually the relentless repetition of “you’re pathetic”’s gets under your your skin, and you’re left skirmish, slightly off put by something that has no right to bother you.

So when I got to the compound I walked with Tony to the lab and forced myself to work. And now I sit here still working. On whatever task he needs help with, minor or major. I work and work and work and work. 

Not realizing Mr. Stark had paused in favor of watching me, I obsessively mumble about the angle of the fingers of the gauntlet, scribbling numbers and equations on disorganized papers. A concerned look settles on his features. His eyes focus on mine, heavy and empty. 

“Hey,” He says after a minute of observing. I ignore him. “Underoos.” He tries and again, and I give no response. He puts down the tablet in his hand and walks over to me, wiggling his fingers in front of my eyes as if to break me out of a trance. “Earth to Peter.”

I look up, startled and blinking rapidly. The weight of the day still weighs heavily on my shoulders. “Y-yeah? Do you need something, Mr. Stark?” 

“No, kid, you just look really strung up.” He says, concern still painted on his face, “do you wanna take a break? I’ve still got ice cream upstairs if you-“

“A-actually, Mr. Stark,” I suck in a breath, ”I don’t think a break would make me feel better right now. I kinda had a really bad day and I’m just trying to-to get lost in all this,” I gesture to the papers littering the table. 

Tony sits in the chair next to mine, resting his elbows on its top, he looks like he‘s considering something. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He says, after a moment. 

I almost say no. I almost tell him that “I’m good, Mr. Stark” and that I’m fine and that I’m Spiderman and he shouldn’t worry. But I look at his face and it’s clear that he’s already worried. So I nod. 

He looks up at me, surprised, “well, okay, kid,” he leans back in his chair, spreading his arms out, “you have the floor.”

I sigh, not knowing how to start or how to phrase my words in a way that makes it so that I don’t sound pathetic. 

“Um, well, uh.” I stutter, and absentmindedly trace my thumb over the eye that was purple just a few days ago. I see recognition in Mr. Stark’s eyes. 

“Was it Flash?” He says, a little too aggressively. 

I blink a few times, “you-you know his name?” It’s not a question. 

“Yeah, kid, I know his name.” Tony says, his tone sounding bothered. “It’s not particularly hard to find a guy who punched you in the face, especially considering Happy mentions a kid who calls you ‘Penis’ every time he picks you up from school  _and_  I’m Tony Stark.” 

“Oh well that makes sense I guess,” I say quietly. He raises his eyebrows in a familiar skeptical fashion. But my eyes are glued to the table. 

“What did he do?” 

I say nothing (because my tongue feels like lead in my mouth, heavy and uncomfortable and unwilling to push words out) but I suppose to Tony that means something really bad because his eyes light up with a certain anger. 

“I’ll kill him.” He says and I can’t tell if he’s joking. 

“That’s really not necessary Mr. Stark. He’s just a dumb kid.” I sound tired. I feel tired. 

“Yeah well of that ‘dumb kid-‘“ he air quotes obnoxiously “-hurt  _my_ dumb kid then we’re gonna have some serious problems.”

I soften a little, an oddly familiar warm feeling settling in the pit of my stomach and spreading out through my whole body, leaving my fingertips tingling. “It’s okay, I can take it.”

Mr. Stark exhales roughly, running his fingers through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in some form of thought. 

He squeezes my shoulder, “I know you can, Pete. But we’ve been over this, you don’t have to. I know you’re Spiderman and you have your weird self-sacrificing complex and you think that it’s up to you to be great and it’s all on you’re shoulders, hell, some of that’s probably my fault and that fact keeps me up at night. But you are surrounded by people who are here to help you carry all that teen angst and guilt. You don’t have to stand there and take hits to help someone else, because we’re all here to pick you up when it’s done and stop it from happening again. Just, talk to us, Peter, talk to May or to me. We’re here for you, okay?”

I nod for a while. I don’t think I stop nodding until Tony puts his hand under my chin to stop me, and neatly stacks my papers. He grabs me by the elbow and drags me upstairs. I follow blindly, too tired and emotionally and physically worn out to wonder what he’s doing.He grabs ice cream and before I know it I’m on the couch watching Star Wars and spooning cookie dough into my mouth, my feet tucked under a fluffy blanket. The rest of the world feels far away. 

He sits beside me, making comments on the movie, though we’ve watched it a million times. I curl deeper into the blanket, the spoon feeling heavy in my hand, my eyelids drooping slightly. I feel Tony scoop the contents out of my grip and putting them on the table next to us. I lean in closer to him, too drowsy to really think about what I’m doing. 

“Thanks Mr. Stark” I say softly. 

As I drift off to sleep, I realize he called me ‘my kid,’ and I think I here him say, “Any time, kid.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna be on vacation for the next couple weeks so I won’t be updating, sorry! Thanks for reading, though!

I’m standing outside the training room with Mr. Stark but that fact doesn’t feel very important to me due to another overwhelming and completely mind boggling fact, that fact being that I’m about to train with the literal Avengers.  _The Avengers_ . Earths mightiest heroes. I’m practically buzzing with excitement, so much so that Mr. Stark has to put a hand on my shoulder to keep me from bouncing up and down. 

     “Kid,” He says calmly _and_ _how can he be calm? I’m about to meet the fucking Avengers_. And we won’t all be fighting this time. Well, maybe a little fighting but now at least it’s good natured. “You need to chill, no freaking out on me, capeesh?”

“Oh yeah of course, Mr. Stark, I’m calm, I’m cool, I’m chill.” I look down at the ground and cross my arms, trying to look collected. 

He rolls his eyes but I think I see him smile. He takes his hand off my shoulder as the doors slide open. I inhale. 

“Here we go, Pete,” he says, soft so only I can hear. I keep my eyes glued on him, nerves making me shaky, sweaty, and nauseas. I look at Mr. Stark, latching onto him like a lifeline, simultaneously begging him to get me out of here and wanting him to introduce me. He smiles. I nod. Then I look out. 

I nearly pass out at the sight. My eyes land first on Captain America, which I suppose makes sense. His presence attracts attention, demands it even. He stands flanked by other avengers, clad with training gear and suits. My eyes dance around the room rapidly now, landing on Bruce Banner (He’s one of the few Avengers I’ve already met in person. He stands in the back, his hair is messy and his curls pour over onto his forehead, lab coat wrinkled, he’s the only one not draped in gear) then Thor (he’s smiling and holding his hammer and talking to Dr. Banner who mumbles back at him, face flush, eyes on the floor. He radiates electricity. It sets my spider-sense off in a strange way, pricking the hairs on my neck without the sense of danger, only the assurance of power, foreign and unearthly.) then Hawkeye (he looks too sleep deprived to even be standing. It reminds me a bit of Tony. As tired as he looks though, I can tell that he’s alert. His eyelids droop but the pupils beneath are scanning me.) then the Scarlet Witch (she’s standing next to vision looking like she wants to disappear. But she glances over me with a quizzical look. She radiates a certain aura, of warning, of invasion.) then Vision (beside Scarlet Witch he looks tall, he positions himself sort of protectively in front of her but his face is expressionless. His skin glistens in the light, like metal.) then the Falcon (his arms are crossed and there’s a glint in his eyes which makes me wary. It doesn’t seem hostile, though, only mischievous and chaotic.) then the Winter Soldier (his eyes are almost empty but if you stare a little too hard you see the pain behind them. A smile creeps at the corner of his lips, barely noticeable. His arm reflects the light from the ceiling.) then War Machine (I’ve met Mr. Rhodes before but something about being surrounded by other fighters makes him more intimidating. Like the presence of the Avengers gives him more power and he knows it. He smiles at me.) then the Black Widow (I notice her last because I barely notice her at all. She blends in with the crowd, almost invisible. Her elbow rests on Hawkeye’s shoulder and she looks at me with a blank stare here eyes bouncing up and down and up and down. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze.) As I glance around the room no one says anything and the silence is deafening. 

“Everyone, Spiderman.” Mr. Stark says easily and thank God he says something because I think if it was quiet for one more second I would’ve combusted. “Spiderman,” he looks back at me, an almost reassuring look on his face, “well, I’m sure you know everyone already.”

I guess someone finally speaking breaks a dam inside me because I stark to speak as well, words pouring out of my mouth uncontrollably and if I was in a better state of mind, I’d probably kill myself from embarrassment. 

“You-you’re the Avengers.” I sputter, “I-you-you’re-this is so cool! Oh my God. I’m Spiderman. Mr. Stark already said that, though, I fought in Berlin, remember? That was cool. Actually that wasn’t cool because we were all fighting. But it was still cool because you’re the Avengers and Mr. Stark gave me a new suit, that still works great by the way, Mr. Stark, thank you so much. And there was this big dude who was also a little dude. And-and I took him down! Oh yeah where is the big/little dude? Is he not invited? That sucks he seemed pretty cool. I mean not like cooler than you guys though, because you’re like the coolest, I mean you’re the Avengers. And-“

“Hey, Underoos,” Mr. Stark interrupts my babbling by clapping a hand on my back, “deep breaths. Remember what I said about staying calm.”

I blink up at him then nod vigorously too many times. “Right, yeah, right, sorry, sir.”

There’s a brief pause. The Avengers say nothing. But then they all seem to snap back to reality all at once. 

“How old is this kid?” says the Falcon. His eyebrows are raised and his eye travel from Tony to me. 

I look at him. “Old enough to kick your ass.”

That comment gets a look of disapproval from Mr. Stark and a startled giggle from Hawkeye. “Kid.”  Tony says, his tone warning. But there’s an undertone of panic there. Like he’s scared that if he screws up once the whole team will split again and it’ll be his fault. And I wasn’t there in Siberia, I don’t know what happened there. But when he got back he was different. For a while. Very closed off. And when I got through to him there’d still be a sort of change in his attitude, moments when he’d be there but he wasn’t really there. And I do blame the rouge Avengers. But Tony told me that it wasn’t their fault. That I should still get my heroes and that his mistakes shouldn’t have anything to do with my opinions. That he was in the wrong. I don’t know if I should believe that but I do. Because I trust him.

I shift on my feet. My hands are shaking. “Sorry, Mr. Stark,” I mumble, trying to convey through my tone that the swear isn’t the only thing I’m sorry about, then look back at the Falcon, trying to maintain eye contact. “I’m 15.”

There’s another pause and honestly I’m getting pretty tired of pauses by this point. Captain America steps forward, disbelief in his eyes. I take an unsteady step back but Mr. Stark loops a protective arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. 

“15? Tony are you out of you’re mind? He’s just a boy.”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, slight anger buzzing in the back of my head. What right does he have to march in here and tell me I’m not good enough? If I wasn’t ready to be here I wouldn’t be here. Tony just squeezes my shoulder lightly and looks over to Cap.

“I know that Steve, you think I didn’t try to stop him? Of course I did. This is his choice to make. Not yours. Not mine. His.”

“Tony, he’s a child not another science project. You can’t poke and prod him likes he’s not alive. He shouldn’t have to make these choices. What happens if he gets hurt? Or worse? Do you even care about the consequences?”

“Of  course I  care.” Tony pulls away from me, moving closer to Cap. I glance around the room. The others look tense. Bruce fiddles with his fingers, Thor’s eyebrows are knit, Scarlet Witch bites her lip, Hawkeye shifts uncomfortably. The Avengers don’t seem so intimidating right now. But still, under the suit my hands sweat. I look at the floor. 

“If you really cared you wouldn’t let him go out there and risk his life for a fight that isn’t even his! He’s a kid.“

I snap my gaze back up to the two, familiar frustration in their eyes. And I know it’s not me, it’s anger that’s been brimming, boiling just below the surface. It just so happened that my existence made it bubble over. Tony opens his mouth to say something but I speak first. 

“Yeah, a kid who can lift a bus. And climb on walls. And sense danger before it even happens. I have the power to help, why shouldn’t I? You said I had heart? Well I have a lot more than that, Mr. Rogers. 

I get that they’re still tension here-“ I point to Tony and Cap, “but that doesn’t have anything to do with me. You have no right to make this decision for me. You don’t even know me!” I step up next to Tony, close to his side. “I’m here because I want to be. Mr. Stark doesn’t have anything to do with it. You can try to stop me all you want but I won’t.”

I look around at the room, daring each and every person to fight me on this, fear of meeting my heroes drowned out by the confidence carried with the mask and the anger still surging through my bones. The anger that made me yell at  _Captain America_.There’s a beat of silence after my speech.

“Can you guys literally stop doing that,” I say, “I can’t take anymore silence and staring.”

“Agreed,” Mr. Stark claps his hands, taking one step away from Cap, “let’s get this show on the road.”

I exhale.  At least that’s over with, I think. I got to walk over to Tony, reaching for my all-too-familiar lifeline, but before I get there the Black Widow slides in front of me. 

I think a thousand thoughts in a second. They’re mostly the same, though, indistinguishable panic mixed with the urge to run away and slight fear of the figure in front of me. I bite my lips beneath the mask, trying not to look uncomfortable. 

“Hey there, маленький паук,” she says and I frown at the nickname. 

Before my brain can catch up with my mouth I say “little spider?”

She looks at me curiously, a little smile playing at her lips. “Yeah, you speak Russian?”

“Well,” I say slowly, “k-kind of. When I got my powers I got enhanced senses, so like better sight and hearing, right? And so I guess the heightened hearing is sort of in tune to different languages, like picking them up better. And I only noticed when my Spanish grade when like way up so me and my friend-his name is Ned, he’s super cool, he’s my guy in the chair-anyway we decided to test it out by using the Duo Lingo app, you know, the one with the scary owl? Right, so we used that app to teach my different languages and it worked. So I speak Russian but I only kind of learned it.”

She stares at me for a moment before saying, “you talk a lot, don’t you? ”

I blink nervously, “uh, I mean I guess.”

Apparently this is funny because she laughs. “Okay, newbie. Tony wanted you to come for a reason. How about you test your skills by sparing with me?” 

Just as I’m about to say something, Mr. Stark walks over and throws an arm around me, guiding me away. “As much as I’d like to see that, I prefer my spider-boys alive.”

“Did I just see that?” Hawkeye looks at the Black Widow in confusion, scrunching up his face and wrinkling the bandaid that lays over the bridge of his nose. Then he looks back at Tony, “did you just parent him?”

My face reddens and for like the fifth time today, I’m happy that I’m wearing the mask. Tony opens his mouth, but Mr. Rhodes decides to pitch in on the humiliation, “Tell me about it, you guy were gone for what, a year? And he adopts a child. I had no idea _you guys_ were his impulse control.”

Bruce speaks up too (his pinky is linked with Thor’s and I add that to the list of obscure Avengers information to share with Ned), “you can’t even talk, Rhodey. Do you know how many times Tony has woken me up in the middle of the night because this kid got himself stabbed? A gain .”

They whole room is looking at me now, and for a fleeting moment I miss being just Peter Parker, unremarkable in every sense, practically invisible. But unluckily for me, spiders can’t just turn invisible so I’m without the ability to disappear like I could at school. But they’re laughing, a little. They’re not angry, they’re just lost, looking at me and then Tony like they’re missing a puzzle piece. And they’re laughing,  _together._ And I think the relief of that makes them all laugh a little harder. 

The Falcon speaks next, “so what’s the deal here, Stark? He your son or what?”

Mr. Stark sputters and my face somehow grows even redder (Thank you mask)

“You know what? Get training, assholes.”

“Not you, Spidey,” says Hawkeye in a singsongy voice, “you’re an angel and we’re all thrilled to have you here.”

“Shut up, Clint.” Mr. Stark claps again, “c’mon people, did I buy this equipment for no reason? I don’t think so.”

The Avengers approach various mats a machines, getting ready to train and I feel a little hope in my chest when I look at Mr. Stark look at all of them fondly.  _Maybe he’ll be alright,_  I think. I walk up beside him, “where should I go, Mr. Stark?” I ask. 

He smiles at me, “it’s up to you kiddo. These are your heroes. Have fun.”

“Yeah,” I say, “but Iron man is my favorite Avenger.”

His eyes brighten a little but he tries to hide it, “really?”

“Really, Mr. Stark.” I say, “always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that headcannon that Peter can just sort of absorb languages isn’t mine but I don’t remember where I first read it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are introduced to Peter Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, I’m back from vacation. I don’t really like this chapter but whatever, I hope you do.

“Thanks, Happy!”

I wave at the driver as he drives away, an annoyed yet fond look in his face.As soon as he’s out of view I turn on my heel, throwing my backpack over my shoulder, nearly spilling all of its contents (disorganized papers and pencils, permission slips for mystery field trips lacking signatures, only  _slightly_ cracked bottles of web fluid) onto the street outside the Tower. I adjust the steps on my shoulders and brush the hair out of my eyes, then jog over to the doors of the building. As I swing the door open I’m greeted with a series of “Hey, Peter”’s from various Stark Industries employees. I wave at them all, and walk over to the elevator, pushing the button way too eagerly way too many times and waiting impatiently for it to arrive. 

“Are you staying the weekend, Peter?” It’s Gabriel, the receptionist. He’s sat at his desk, arms resting on its top as he types on his computer. He doesn’t look at me as he asks the question but he smiles showing off the little gap between his front teeth. 

I go over to the desk, almost knocking over the coffee cup that sits on the edge, “yeah! I’ll be upstairs with Mr. Stark so if you guys need anything just use the Button.”

He laughs when I mention the Button (the Button is a door-bell like  _thing_   that I made up in the lab one day. Essentially, it’s a panic button that alerts Mr. Stark of any issues down in the main lobby of the tower, and can be used by any employee with the proper clearance in case of emergency. When I pitched the idea to him he thought it was great and installed it immediately, figuring it wouldn’t be used unless absolutely necessary because he had ‘responsible employees, unlike you.’ Unfortunately, he was wrong, as the workers in the lobby are rather fond of me, I suppose, and relatively irresponsible as well. They mainly use it to call me away from real intern work upstairs with Tony so they can coddle me like a puppy. Mr. Stark loathes the Button. I think it makes him jealous, not that he’d ever admit it.)

“Sure thing, Pete,” He says and reaches over to ruffle my hair as I squawk in protest. Just then the elevator finally arrives. The doors open with a little  _ding_   and I call out a quick “sorrygottagobye” and bound over to the shutting doors, sliding in just before they close. 

“Hello, Peter. Boss just got out of a board meeting and is heading to his lab right now. Would you like me to inform him of your arrival?” FRIDAY’s disembodied robot voice is clear in the elevator. 

I nod and then remember that she doesn’t have eyes because she’s an AI and not an actual person. My cheeks heat up a little and I go to correct my mistake. 

“Uh, yeah, sure, Fri.” I mutter awkwardly and shift on my feet, popping earbuds in and willing the elevator to move faster so I can get to the lab (not that that’s very possible. Mr. Stark tries to make sure his elevators move just slightly faster than the ones at Oscorp. It’s an ego thing, I guess.) 

It’s Friday and my Aunt is out of town for a work trip, meaning I get to spend the weekend at the Tower with Mr. Stark and a ton of high tech fun shit. A smile threatens the corners of my mouth and slight giddiness bubbles in my stomach. I try to fight the feeling and remain neutral. I don’t want to seem over eager because it might be too much for Tony to handle and I don’t really want to annoy my way out of a superhero gig, that would be mega lame. Even though I’ve done this a thousand times it always feels a little surreal when I walk into the Tower or the lab or my room. I mean what kind of person gets to have sleepovers with Tony fucking Stark? Or a bedroom opposite his? In the words of Ned “what even is your-“  _my_   “-life, dude?!”

After what feels like a million years (But in reality is probably only a minute or so) the doors open. I huff out a breath and walk over to the lab, swiping my ID at the door. FRIDAY announces my name, “Peter Parker, Mr. Stark’s personal intern. Clearance level 5,” and opens the door. I tuck my ID back in the pocket of my hoodie, pull out my phone and walk into the room, smiling as the familiar sounds of the lab blend with the music in my ears, sounds of mechanical beeping (mostly DUM-E swinging his little head around and chirping at the walls) and the whirring of gears on whatever project Tony happens to be working on today flooding my ears as I scroll through my Spotify, looking for a better song than the one currently playing. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” I call, tossing my backpack into the table and then proceeding to immediately panic and drop my phone, jumping to catch the before it hits the table, attempting to save the bottles of web fluid in the bottom of the bag from shattering and ruining my homework. Again. I catch my bag and set it down gently on the tabletop, then bend over to pick up my phone, flipping it over to make sure it’s not cracked. I call out for Mr. Stark again. “Mr. Stark?”

“Tony’s not here yet.” I jump, hairs on my neck standing up, not expecting to be greeted by anyone other than Tony. I stand up in confusion and almost drop my phone again when I see who’s in front of me. The Avengers (sans Vision and Scarlet Witch who are MIA, Thor who’s on some space mission with the ‘Guardians’ as he calls them, Mr. Rhodes who’s probably cleaning up the mess from whatever battle they all clearly just fought because according to Tony, ‘Rhodey is the only real adult on this team’, and Antman who is somewhere doing something, probably with his little daughter.) lay spread out on the lab couch (only installed after Mr. Stark had gotten fed up with me falling asleep over unfinished work and waking up sore, opting instead to lift me with his frail old man arms over to the couch) looking tired, and a little dirty. My eyes instinctively jump to Captain America who stares at me, arms crossed and mouth pressed into a thin line. Beside him the Winter soldier looks at me like he’s analyzing me, eyes tracing my whole figure and making my body tense in warning. I bite my lip and try not to look like I’ve been caught red handed,  _because I haven’t._

“Who the hell are you?” Says Hawkeye, eyebrows raised in obvious confusion even though his kids are heavy. I blink, cursing my powers (what’s the use of Spider-Sense if it can’t tell me that I’m just nonchalantly strolling into a room full of the most powerful people in the world while fucking Ariana Grande blasts into my ears?)

In a blind panic I say “Peterman” and  _shit_ . Thats literally the worst possible thing I could’ve said. My eyes widen and I sputter out “um- I mean I’m Peter Parker. But-but! Peterman is my middle name!”  _Bad lie, Parker,_ I think and  _goddamn, I really fucked myself on this one didn’t I?_ “Actually-“ I laugh awkwardly “my middle name is Benjamin. My friends call me Peterman. In like a cool way though, not like a lame way. Like-“ I raise my arms in mock excitement and I can feel my face getting redder by the second “‘-hey Peter _man_ _!_ And not like-“ I roll my eyes, “‘-hey Peterman. You know, in like a-a cool way” I trail off and awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. 

The Black Widow blinks at me with a knowing look in her eyes, legs resting in Hawkeyes lap, tossing her red hair over her shoulder as she turns her head to faceme on the couch. I feel a sudden shift in my stomach, like someone threw a flaming log in with my organs and my insides are all on fire. It’s not a happy feeling. 

“So,” Dr. Banner looks at me from his spot on the couch (perched on the edge ‘like a scoundrel’, according to Mr. Stark’s previous remarks) where he sits cross cross like a kindergarten eyes wrinkled in amusement, clearly fighting a laugh. (He already knows I’m Spiderman and the traitor thinks my struggle is hilarious. He could easily let them all know that ‘hey  don’t worry that’s  just Tony’s intern, and he’s literally in high school and is no threat whatsoever’ or whatever and  _yet_ . That’s one thing they don’t tell you about the Avengers, they’re all major dicks.) I scowl at him. “Your name is Peter ‘Peterman’ Benjamin Parker?”

I wince and swallow, regretting ever trusting him with anything ever. “Yup. Yes. That’s-that’s what I said.” 

“Well ‘Peter man -‘“ Hawkeye makes a grossed out expression at the name, scrunching up his face and sticking out his tongue a little, “would you kindly explain what the  _fuck_   you’re doing in Tony Stark’s personal lab?”

“Oh,” I sigh and smile, relieved to not have to lie, “I’m Mr. Stark’s personal intern, I work here.”

The Falcon raises his hand, “I wasn’t aware Stark hired twelve-year-olds.”

I brush my hair behind my ear awkwardly looking around and shrinking under the gaze of the room, “actually I’m fifteen.”

“Okay,” Captain America finally speaks and glances over me skeptically. “You seem like a pretty nice kid, so I’m gonna ask again, what are you doing in Tony’s lab?”

“I told you, sir, I work here.” I say, trying not to sound irritated and glaring at Bruce, trying to give myself laser vision and shoot him in the face as revenge for his betrayal, “why would I lie? And how would I break into this place, the security is ridiculously advan-“

Then Mr. Stark walks in, tablet on hand, tapping the screen rapidly, not noticing the group just as I had and says, “hey Pete, sorry it took so long, Pep was holding me up downstairs, something about some PR idea, I don’t kno-ohhh hey, guys.” And I smirk as a see the Avengers’ jaws go slack, Tony’s eyes widen. 

Tony clears his throat, “well I see you’ve all met Peter, my inter- Bruce why are you laughing?”

I meet Mr. Stark’s gaze and my eyes land on Dr. Banner who is, in fact, laughing his ass off. I turn to Tony who looks to me. 

“It’s because he’s an asshole,” I grumble, sounding a little bit (a lot) like a child. Stark opens his mouth a little and turns away from me quickly, glancing over at Bruce who’s still hysterical. 

“Did you pretend not to know Peter?” He says like he’s scolding a puppy. 

“He did because he’s an _asshole_.”

“He-“ Dr. Banner wheezes, eyes scrunched up laughing, his glasses slide down his nose and his hair bounces with each laugh, falling in his eyes, “He said his fr-“  _wheeze_ , “friends call him-“  _wheeze_ , “Peterman.” And then he keeps laughing. 

“You’re a dick.” I reach forward and flick his forehead. Bruce yelps in protest and I stick my tongue out. Tony laughs.

The rest of the Avengers watch the three of us go back and forth like we’re a really shocking and chaotic tennis match. Bruce laughing and carefree, Tony looking more at ease than they’ve ever seen him, and me, a stranger to them all but clearly not to the ‘Science Bros’ as they had previously dubbed themselves. Every time I glance back at the heroes their eyes bounce from me to Bruce to Tony and then back again, mouths slightly agape. 

Cap stares at Tony (head thrown back in laughter, hand on my back, saying something about how ‘you go to a genius school, Peter, I figured they’d teach you how to speak.’) with his weirdly sparkling blue-green eyes and his previously open mouth forms into a little smile. And the rest of them are smiling now too, little smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths until the slack jaws become upturned lips. And it’s like I’m in the training room all over again, tension is lifted and everyone breathes a little easier as the tension seeps out of the room. 

Finally Sam speaks, “Stark you hired a ten-year-old?”

I cross my arms, feeling more confident with banter than being grilled for a crime I didn’t commit. “I thought I was twelve?” I quip but nobody pays me any mind. 

“Hell yeah I did, kid’s a genius, geniuses are kinda what we do here, I’d have to be insane to not hire him.”

I blush and tuck my hair behind my ear, “Thanks Mr. Stark,” I mumble and then I see my heroes look at me like I’m a little puppy or something and blush even more. 

“Don’t call him a genius, Tony,” Bruce protests, pouting (like a traitor), “you’re just encouraging him.”

I just stick my tongue out at him as Tony barks out a laugh and ruffles my hair stary-eyed, face still flush with laughter, “good, kid needs a little encouragement now and then. He’s an attention-whore.”

I pull out of Tony’s grip as the team says “Language,” in unison and my face twists in confusion at the apparent long withstanding inside joke. 

“I’m not an attention-whore,” I say and the heroes mutter another, quieter “Language.”

“Damn,” the Winter Soldier leans close to Caps ear, “Stark really seems to have a knack for adopting scrappy little genius kids,” it’s so quiet no one hears it but me because of the whole super-hearing thing. I smile a little. 

“Well,” I wag my hands a little and pointing at the door in an attempt to prevent my exit from being awkward, “you guys seem nice, but I’m an intern and I have to do actual intern-y things now, so I’ll just go to my room.”

I figure I should leave and let Tony deal with the after battle conference or whatever’s gonna go down next so I turn to go but then Hawkeye says, “ _your room_ _?_ ” And I realize my mistake. 

Luckily, Tony swoops in to save me. Or well, sort of. He just says words. 

“Yeah his room, see ya Pete.” He turns and gives me a look that says _get out of here while you can, kid._ So I take that advice and nod then bolt around the corner, returning seconds later to grab my bag and a couple tools. 

“Sorry sorry sorry,” I say, shutting my eyes and sticking my hands out to feel my way around and make it clear I don’t wanna peek at mission stuff (even though I totally wanna peek at mission stuff) “pretend I’m not here just grabbing some stuff.”

As I leave a hear the Black Widow say, “see you, Peterman.” And I grimace at first but then my face relaxes into a smile and I call back, “bye, Ms. Black Widow.” And run off, trying not to think about how crazy my life is as I hop into my room ( _my_ _room!!_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Peter is pretty good at acting as a buffer between team Cap and team Iron man, even if he doesn’t know he’s doing it. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda short and I finished it at like three in the morning so don’t judge it too harshly, please :)

I slip into the kitchen on my Spiderman socks (curtesy of Mr. Stark) rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with the sleeves of the MIT hoodie I stole from Tony. I yawn and blink a few times, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the bright of the lights dangling from the ceiling. 

“FRIDAY?” I say, my voice sounding hoarse from sleep. “Can you dim the lights?”

“Sure, Peter.”

“Thanks.”

I plop down into a chair, laying my head on my arms and the air gets suddenly cold, poking me and twisting around my throat and choking me. I yelp and shoot up in my seat, eyes wide, hands instinctively out in front of me like I’m wearing web-shooters. I hear feet shuffling as I scan for a target. Then my eyes land on her, brown hair a little messy. 

A few feet from me stands the Scarlet Witch (apparently back for her whatever-she-was-doing) eyes widened in alarm, a weird energy bouncing off her body in cool waves. I sigh and let my arms fall to my sides, mentally searching for a cover for the whole ‘jumped three feet in the air when nothing was happening and tried to shoot a stranger with a weapon I definitely shouldn’t have because I’m just an intern’ thing that seems to be causing major issues right now. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, accent coloring her words. She pauses. “Who are you?”

I run a hand through my hair, makeup heart is still racing and my mind is moving at a million miles per second.  _What do I do?_  

     “I’m Peter Parker. Were you gonna read my mind?” I say because I’m tired and when I’m tired I have less of a filter than usual which is bad because I’ve been told I regularly don’t have a filter. 

For what it’s worth, she at least looks a little embarrassed about it. Embarrassed and confused. She nods. “How did you know?”

“It’s cold.” I say trying to explain why there seems to be a wall of icy air that just swirls around her at all times, “You’re cold. Why are you cold?”

She shrugs, “I do not know.” Her hands are still up and I’m worried she’ll fire on me if I provoke her. I try to swallow the thumping heart I feel creeping up into my throat. “Why are you here?”

I blink, she wasn’t here for the lab debacle the other day. I stick my hands in my pocket. “I’m an intern for Mr. Stark. And my aunt is out of town so I stayed the weekend here.”

She looks skeptical but she at least drops her hands. Something in me relaxes and I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Stark does not let people stay here.”

“He lets you stay here.” I fire back. 

“I’m an Avenger. This is the Avengers tower. Why does he let you stay?”

I shift, because I can’t say that I’m an Avenger too (well, sort of, I’m more of a sub that jumps in when everyone else is unavailable) and I’m just scared she’ll try to read my mind again. Something about that feels too invasive. It chills me more than the air around her. “I don’t really know.”

She comes and sits at one of the barstools by the counter leaning the chair forward so that only two of the legs are touching the ground. “Then tell me who you are.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “I already said, I’m Peter, I’m and inter-“ she cuts me off. 

“Yes, yes you said who you  _are_ . But I want to know who you  are.”

I sit at the stool next to hers. “I’m not sure I understand.” I say because I figure honestly is the best policy with this girl as she’s hella confusing and I’m 100% sure she could kick my ass without lifting a finger. 

She looks away from me, like she’s considering what I said and choosing her next words carefully. “Tell me something.” 

I glance down at the table instinctively, eyes landing on her hands, pale with black painted nails at the tips. They’re clad with rings, one or more on almost every finger. They’re really pretty. I think about her question and say, “um-I like your rings.”

Then the air is suddenly cold again. “Please don’t read my thoughts,” I say, sounding very much like a child. She says nothing but looks at me a little curiously. 

“You are good. I did not need your mind to tell me that. Your words prove it. But you lie.”

I swallow, my voice rising in octaves as I say, “lie? Lie about what? I’m a pretty honest person, I mean at least I’d say so. I think I try to be hones-“ 

“You’re the spider-boy, are you not?” She says and my eyes give it away. She smiles, dark lipstick smeared lips turning up. Her smile is sweet and sincere and it’s warm, it combats her whole energy, everything about her is cold but her smile is like a little sun in her winter. It calms me down a little. It makes her feel more like a real person.

     “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me. It is okay. I will not tell anyone. Why are you awake so early, Peter?”

My name sounds foreign in her mouth, but she says it pleasantly. I think I like her. 

“I have school and Happy-he’s Mr. Stark’s head of security-is picking me up in a few minutes.” I say, trying to just settle in and get comfortable with the weird atmosphere of this whole interaction. “Why are you up?”

“I could not sleep.” She states followed by nothing more. But I prod because I have less of a filter when I’m tired and I’m nothing if not a nosy bitch. 

“Why not?”

“Don’t worry about it Spider boy, it is not your concern. But thank you. You are good.” She repeats and I blush a little. 

“Th-Thank you.”

“I can see why Stark lets you stay. You are a hero and a sweet boy.”

I smile and bite my lip, “thank you Ms. Scarlet Witch.”

Upon hearing her superhero name she lets out a startled laugh and says, “call me Wanda.” She smiles again, brightly, “you’re funny as well.”

I look down a little bashfully and choose my next words. 

“Okay.  Wanda , do you want some of my cereal? Mr. Stark says its sugary enough to rot teeth but don’t be discouraged, he’s a nonbeliever.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of heart to heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t particularly like this chapter but it be like that sometimes. Anyways, thanks for all the kudos and comments and stuff! I feel super validated :)

“Hey, Pete?”

Mr. Stark interrupts the comfortable quiet that had settled over the lab, light whirring and tapping of metal giving way to a voice of hesitancy. I look up at Tony, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah?”

He exhales through his nostrils and I can see the gears moving in his head as his lips twitch a little. He’s debating something. Specifically whether or not he’s gonna  tell me something. 

“Just tell me,” I say after a moment, getting tired of the indecision on his part (watching his brain bounce around a choice like it’s a ping pong ball is endearing at first, when you know him as Tony Stark instead of just Tony, but by now it’s just annoying as shit.)

“Okay, when are you planning to tell the rest of the Avengers about your,” He waves his hand, “arachnid problem.”

“Oh.”

That’s all I say for a moment. Then, “well, I’ve sort of accidentally done it like three times already.” I clear my throat. 

Tony’s eyes widen a little. “ Accidentally?! ” He demands. 

I immediately jump on the defensive (a position where I seem to basically live nowadays) and throw my hands up in surrender, elbows knocking against tools on the table I’m working by. “Only twice, only twice.” I say, trying to stop the oncoming lecture I can see brewing behind his eyes. “And one of them isn’t my fault. Just Wanda spooked me with her wacky mind powers at like six in the morning and my Spidey-Sense went off and I almost shot her with my web-shooters and Ms. Black Widow keeps calling me маленький паук, which means little spider in Russian so I think she just sort of figured it out on her own.” I smile a little, awkwardly, trying to spell the words ‘it’s not my fault don’t blame me’ in my teeth while Mr. Stark just gapes and me for a minute before eventually face palming and saying something like “of course she did,” then, “kid, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know?”

So I just say, “I know. And I’m sorry! I really,  _really_   tried to keep it a secret because I kinda don’t want anyone to know yet.”

I exhale, “so to answer to your initial question, I don’t know when I’m gonna tell people about my,” I wiggle my fingers a little as I say the words, “arachnid problem. I guess I’m just scared that it’s gonna mess everything up and put everyone I love in danger and-“

I stop talking and instinctively look back down at the tools on the table, not daring to lift my eyes so that nothing in me breaks. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

I hear Tony sigh and shift in his seat then I feel the weight of his hand on my shoulder. “Kid.” He says, poking my chin with his finger, trying to tilt my head while my eyes remain glued to miscellaneous tools for miscellaneous weapons sitting on super expensive tech that my scraped up elbows should definitely not be resting on. “Hey, Pete, c’mon look at me.”

He pushes my face until our eyes meet. Brown to brown. “I promise,” he says and my heart does a weird thing in my chest, sort of swimming and flipping and thumping really loudly until I can feel it in my throat, making my tongue heavy, on the word  promise . Because it’s so  heavy . Promises are permanent. They mean something and they’re supposed to be unbreakable and they’re looming and complex and necessary and terrible and terrifying and full of hope all at the same time. And it sort of makes me sick to my stomach. “I won’t let anything happen to you or you’re family. They won’t get hurt, not on my watch.” I can see in his eyes that he wants me to believe it. And I want to believe it too. But it feels fragile. And futile. Promises break, I know that from experience. 

I can still remember sitting on my aunts ratty old couch at nine-years-old, flipping through a book. I remember the smell of the air (like wood and vanilla scented candles and autumn) as the door swung open to Ben, home from work, face looking off, eyes looking watery, and hands shaking ever so slightly. They were babysitting, my parents were flying back from a work trip. He strode in quickly. I said hi and he smiled at me weakly before looking at May with broken eyes. Her face fell and a without a word she got up and followed him to the other room. I heard her cry and I focused harder on the pages between my little fingers. They walked back in from the other room looking grim and I felt my stomach drop a little. I turned the page and blinked hard, tucking my legs. 

The next thing I knew Ben was knelt before me, hand on my knees saying that ‘there was an accident’ and May hugged me as I cried and promised that everything would be okay. But it wasn’t. There was a casket and a grave and a funeral. And years later there’s a new casket and a new grave and a new funeral and things are never really okay. So how can Tony promise something so big? How can he say it like the shards of the well meaning lie won’t cut his fingers as they fall between the cracks like sand leaving bloodied hands and caskets and graves and funerals. 

“I know, Mr. Stark.” I mumble but Tony doesn’t seem satisfied. He studies my face for a moment, “what is it, kid?” 

I pull away from him a little, “it’s just,” promises break. Things don’t always go according to plan. People get-“ I swallow thickly ”-hurt.”

Mr. Stark sighs a sad sigh, “I know that, Peter, it’s part of the job.” Then, “I wish you didn’t have to know that. I wish I could just lock you away from it all, keep you protected. But you’d just wiggle your way out of anywhere I put you, because you’re too good for that. You can’t sit around and let bad things happen because then you think they happen because of you.” He laughs a little, “sometimes I wish you were a little less smart, kid. Maybe you’d get into less trouble and I’d have fewer of these,” He gestures to they gray pieces of his hair, dusted in to the dark brown like salt and pepper.

     “I think you’d have those anyway, Mr. Stark.”

     He tries to act offended but just ends up smiling at me. I smile back. I still feel a little sad. And a little sick. But I think he does too. And somehow that makes all the difference. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well,” Thor says, smile not faltering, “My good friend from space, also named Peter coincidentally, said it is, what was it? ‘The best movie of all time.’”
> 
> My mouth says, “Wait-Footloose?" without my consent. "Are we talking about the same movie?”
> 
>  
> 
> Avengers movie night!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to write this for a while and it just wasn't working but I actually did it finally :) Sorry it took so long, I'm the worst, I know. I hope you like it!

I shift my weight from foot to foot rapidly, leaning left then right then left then right, jostling the elevator. I’m antsy with annoyingly familiar (and Avenger-related) nerves, fidgeting my hands and bouncing back and forth like a lunatic. Tony laughs at me.  

      “Just breathe, Pete,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

      I just stare at him incredulously. Because these are the _Avengers_ , literally everything about them is a big deal and I'm pretty sure we've had this conversation thirty times. 

      “I get that the Avengers are just your  _ pals _ , Mr. Stark, but when I was a kid I dressed up as these people for Halloween.“

     Tony smiles and laughs again, ruffling my hair, “I know,” he says as I pull away and attempt to fix the mop on my head, “I have the pictures.”

      My eyes widen a little in only slightly exaggerated betrayal, “Mr. Stark, I hope you know that you and May are why I have trust issues.”

     He reaches out his hand to mess up my hair some more but I squawk and jump away from him, still fixing it with my fingers. 

     “We know kiddo. But I mean it, this is really no reason to freak out, they already know you and it’s not like we’re fighting some major battle, we’re just watching a movie.”

     “That’s exactly why it’s a big deal, Mr. Stark. The only ones who actually know me are Nat, Bruce, Wanda, and Rhodey.  _ You _  know me Mr. Stark. They’ve met me, there’s a difference." I dismiss his dumb logic, "What if Thor has really shitty movie taste? Huh, Mr. Stark? I can’t tell _Thor_ he has shitty movie taste, he’ll smite me or something. What if I say something wrong and they decide that they hate me, what do I do if the  _ Avengers _  hate me?”

     Mr. Stark looks at me with gentle warmth in his eyes and I feel it relax me a little as he says, “I don’t think it’s possible for someone to not like you, Pete.”

      I scrunch up my nose and give him a lopsided grin, “that was really sappy, Mr. Stark,” I inform him, but he knows this.

      He rolls his eyes but I can see a little smirk forming by the corners of his mouth, tugging on his lips, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

     I shove him, mockingly disbelieving, and cross my arms, momentarily distracted from my panic. He’s falls back harder than he probably should and says, “woah kid, super strength, remember?”

     “Whatever," I taunt, mouth upturned, "old man.” Then I stick out my tongue because I’m mature like that.

     His eyebrows shoot up, “watch it, Underoos." He warns, still smiling a little, "And relax, they’re gonna love you.”

      I take a breath, collecting my thoughts and trying to stop myself from making the elevator shake any more. “Yeah, it’s gonna be fine. Okay, this is fine, this is fine, this is fine, this is _not_ , this is not fine, _this is_ _not fine_ ,  Mr. Stark?” I glance towards him a little helplessly but he shrugs.

     “Time’s up kid,” he points to the boxy floor number on the screen and the doors _ding_ and swing open. I stand up straighter and Tony places a hand on my shoulder to guide me forward. 

     “Hey, guys,” he says casually, waving as we walk into the living room. 

      And I don’t know what I was expecting from Avengers movie night, but it definitely wasn’t something this  domestic . I’ve met these guys multiple times, but they’ve always been in their suits and uniforms. And I suppose it makes sense that they don’t constantly wear their costumes, but it’s still a really weird thing to experience. Seeing Captain America wearing sweatpants and hugging a pillow to his chest while he bickers with the other heroes is enough to give me whiplash instantly so when my eyes move to the other heroes, Mr. Stark has to keep me from falling over. I blink, trying to take it all in, to study it, to save it to a mental file because there’s no way anyone is gonna believe that the Winter Soldier is having his hair braided by the Scarlet Witch. Or that Bruce Banner is honest to god giggling as he tries to pick up Thor’s apparently super-heavy-hammer as the god cheers for him. Or that the Falcon and War Machine are sitting cross legged on the carpet playing Rock Paper Scissors. 

      It’s sort of humanizing. The Avengers are people like the rest of us. And Hawkeye is stealing popcorn from the Black Widow. 

      “Hi.” I say softly after Mr. Stark nudges me. 

      There’s a chorus of “Hey Peter”’s and a few scattered “Peterman”’s. I lean into Tony’s side and smile a little. He claps (something I’ve found he does very often to gain the attention of the team) “Okay, movie, did you guys pick?” He speaks like he’s talking to a group of young children. 

      “It’s Thor’s week,” says Vision, who’s hovering over the couch. He’s the only one still in his suit but then again I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without it. 

     Thor sits up a little, smiling as if he’s proud to have a movie prepared, “yes, I have chosen a movie." he pauses for what one can only assume is dramatic effect. "It’s called Footloose.”

      My lips open against my will and before I can stop myself I blurt, “why?” like the word is sour on my tongue. Everyone’s eyes are suddenly on me. I shift closer to Mr. Stark. 

     “Well,” Thor says, smile not faltering, “My good friend from space, also named Peter coincidentally, said it is, what was it? ‘The best movie of all time.’”

     My mouth says, “Wait- _ Footloose _ ?" without my consent. "Are we talking about the same movie?”

     “I assume so,” says Thor, “it’s got dancing, and presumably loose feet.”

     “Thor really does have shitty movie taste,” I mumble without thinking. It's just loud enough that every trained ear hears (apart from Hawkeye who just glances around in confusion as the rest of the room bursts into laughter and Cap who scrunches his eyebrows and says ‘Language’ halfheartedly) 

     Thor frowns as I frantically apologize, finally backtracking, “oh my god, I’m so sorry, Mr. Thor, sir. Please don’t smite me.”

      The nervous rambling and the ‘Please don’t smite me’ comment sends the group into another fit of laughter and I feel myself lighten a little. 

     Rhodey looks at me, “why don’t you pick instead, Peter?” He asks and just like that I feel the tension seep back into my body. I glance up at Mr. Stark who just looks back and shrugs a little, wrapping an arm around me and saying, “yeah kiddo, so long as you don’t make me watch Star Wars again.”

     The Falcon coughs out a laugh and Tony and I look to him, “‘ kiddo? ’” He air quotes. “You’re really going soft, Stark.” The Avengers laugh again and tony puts his free hand on his hip, “real mature, guys.”

     And then the Winter Soldier asks, “what’s Star Wars?” His voice sounding impossibly innocent. 

     “Holy shit,” Nat says swatting Hawkeye’s hand away from her popcorn, “you haven’t seen Star Wars?” She looks up slowly, eyes baring into everyone but Mr. Barnes intently, a little gleam in her eyes. 

      “Wait,” Bruce says, “does that mean he doesn’t know that Darth Vader is- mmph!” He’s cut off as trained assassins and Soldiers leap at him from every direction, knives being pulled and hands being thrown over his mouth. Thor watches the scene play out in amusement.  

     “Oh my god.” I turn back to Mr. Stark, giving him my biggest pleading eyes. He’s looks angry about it but after a few seconds he melts and says “fine” and I cheer and tilt my head towards the heroes who are blinking at me with wide eyes. Hawkeye walks over to me and pokes my face with band-aid converted fingers. I flinch. 

     “How’d you do that?” He questions, poking my cheek again. 

     “What?” I ask, baffled by the attention and sudden face jabbing. 

     “That thing you did with your face.”

     “I have no idea what you’re taking about.”

     “Those,” Nat starts, smirking at the confused yet charmed looking heroes around her, “Are his puppy dog eyes. And they can convince Tony to do almost anything.”

      “Not true” Tony states at the same time as I squeak “what?”

      Wanda chimes in for he first time this whole conversation, “he does it very often and it always works. Do you have a hair tie, Peter?” I nod and smile, liking the way my name sounds in her mouth, pulling one off my wrist and tossing it to her. She catches it and ties up the end of the Winter Soldiers braid. 

      “Whatever,” says Tony as the heroes start giggling once again. “Back to the problem at hand. We’ve been here for like ten minutes and there’s no movie on.” He point to the screen, “FRIDAY?” He calls out, “play Star Wars a New Hope.”

       “Of course, boss,” she says chirpily, queuing up the movie. Mr. Stark walks over to the couch with me but I end up sitting on the floor in front of him leaning my back on the couch and pulling Wanda’s hair up into space buns. 

       After a few minutes of watching I come to the realization that the Avengers are awful people to watch movies with. They can save the world, beat the shit out of villains, blow things up, and generally fight stuff without so much as a grunt but the second the lights are off and a movie is on they don’t know how to shut up. I whisper this to Wanda and she giggles a little, hitting my arm lightly with the back of her palm. 

      We end up watching the entire first trilogy, giggling at Thor who can’t quite seem to understand what Yoda is saying, gaping at Nat who somehow can do a perfect Leia impression, and all watching Mr. Barnes’ face intently as Darth Vader declares that he is, in fact Luke’s father and then laughing and screaming when his eyes widen in shock and he says “what the _fuck?_ ” But I fall asleep before the third one is over, leaning against Mr. Stark’s leg, Wanda’s fingers playing with/messing up my hair, my wrist still stinging from the various times throughout the night someone decided to  the rubber bands on my wrists for being a little shit. My breathing evens out and I feel the almost prevalent lack of nerves. Like being around these people isn't quite as scary anymore. I smile and drift off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love the idea of Peter with hair ties up to his elbows just because he likes to make sure his long-haired friends can put their hair up if they need to so just let me have it, okay?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it. Comment if you see any reason for me to take it down, want to suggest a prompt, or just want to validate me:)


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